In the desperately populated outskirts of 19th century Manchester, amidst the clamour and drone of the Industrial Revolution, lay a darkened stretch of beautiful ancient woodland known as Boggart Hole Clough. This serene area became legendary for its resident mischief-maker, the Boggart. In local folklore, the Boggart is a malevolent and troublesome spirit, known for its trickery and annoyance of those who dare to cross its path. Countless stories are told of the Boggart’s ornery behaviour. It was said to torment the washerwomen who frequented the local brooks, hiding or spoiling their freshly washed linen. Local farmers would often wake to find mysteriously knotted horse manes, confused livestock, or milk spoilt – all the mischievous handiwork of the Boggart. Even footsteps, rattling windows, and strange sounds were attributed to this irritating spectre. One prominent tale is told of a local family who, tormented beyond patience by the Boggart’s antics, decided to leave their home. As they travelled to their new abode, they heard a little voice from within one of their packing crates say, ‘We’re flitting!’ Recognising it as the Boggart, they decided to return home, concluding that they would rather face the known nuisances of the Boggart than invite it to torment them elsewhere. Folklore states that this ‘flitting’ Boggart has been captured in the figure of a clay mouse, showcased in Manchester Museum, offering a fascinating glimpse into 19th century superstitions and beliefs. The Boggart has become an iconic representation of the city’s rich folklore.